


I Thought You Had Forgotten

by CuriousThimble



Series: Fictober 2018 Microfics [15]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Canon Divergent, F/M, Fictober 2018, Not Canon Compliant, Post Blight, fictober18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 18:03:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16310069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuriousThimble/pseuds/CuriousThimble
Summary: After time apart, Alistair and Hera find themselves dancing together at a royal function.





	I Thought You Had Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> Fictober Day 15  
> Again, Hera. I hope you're enjoying the microfics with her, because I'm working steadily on her DAO retelling, which, as you can see, won't be anything like the game PTs. She is definitely her own creature.

Alistair's arms slide around her waist, pulling her tight against him. Nose to nose, he and Hera stare at one another in the dark silence.

 

“It's been a long time,” he whispers. “I uh, haven't done this much in the last few years.”

 

“That's all right,” she assures him, stroking his jaw. “I had years in Orlais to practice.”

 

“I thought we weren't going to bring that up,” he reminds her, sliding his hand down her bare back.

 

“My mistake,” she grins. “Are you going to punish me?”

 

“Oh yes. I intend to step on all your toes in front of everyone,” he teases.

 

The music starts, and the doors swing open. Alistair takes a deep breath and starts spinning her around in great sweeping circles into the ballroom.

 

“One two three four, one two three four,” he mutters under his breath.

 

Hera follows him effortlessly, avoiding missteps certainly meant for her toes. “Oh Hero, you're counting,” she giggles. “It's adorable.”

 

“Shh, everyone's watching.”

 

Hera spares a glance around the ballroom full of nobles, her former Orlesian patron among them. “You've had five years to learn to dance,” she whispers under the music, eying him flirtatiously. “And yet you're still awful.”

 

“Maker's breath,” he sighs as she swirls her skirt to cover another of his mistakes. “And here I'd thought you had forgotten.”

 

“Feet like yours?” she giggles. “Never.”


End file.
